


The One With Malcolm's Haircut

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [6]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Love, Romance, a bit of neck porn, cuddlecore, errogenous zones, right in the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is daydreaming......mainly about her boss. </p><p>When Malcolm arrives for work she cannot believe her eyes......</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With Malcolm's Haircut

**Author's Note:**

> This was a great prompt from @millerdoc on tumblr. 
> 
> And I'm very glad there are others out there who spend time thinking about Malcolm's lovely head!! 
> 
> "One question/prompt, perhaps: do you think Sam has a favourite among malcolm's curls, lol? Just that one special curls that wraps round her finger and seems to not wanna let go?" 
> 
> Well....of course she does!! And here is the story to prove it!! 
> 
> Thank you @millerdoc!! 
> 
> This will be in the 'before they really got together' AU!!

THE ONE WITH MALCOLM'S HAIRCUT. 

Sam was sitting at her desk. Sipping a coffee.  
She was deep in thought, mainly daydreaming about her employer..........

There were several versions of Malcolm that Sam had got used to over the years she'd worked alongside him, from the point of view of both his personality and his 'look'.  
Even during the course of just a single day he could be various different people; shouty, sweary and rude, although never to her, morose and withdrawn, or terribly vulnerable and fragile. 

Sam knew how to handle these outbursts and expertly field each volley of flak that came their way. They worked as a team. A well oiled machine. 

As for his physical presence there had certainly been vast improvements. 

The early Malcolm was Mister ' _Straight out of Burton's'._ Or perhaps a concession at Debenham's if he was feeling so inclined. Never _Marks and Sparks_ though.....that was just an off the peg that even he couldn't abide.  
Oh, the horrors of polyester! 

Creased across the tops of the legs, and soon shiny where there was any friction! 

Tragic! 

Nowadays he was a little more flush, and he leaned more towards designer, a much better cut, and a closer fit too.  
Sam found much to admire there, although she tried hard not to admit it to herself.  
The daily view of the perfectly formed Tucker derrière encased in Paul Smith or Armani was something that made it worth coming in to work every morning. 

Briefly there had been snuggly fleece Malcolm......quite a revelation, it had to be said, or more particularly the fine knit with a collar he'd worn beneath it, just tight enough to see the musculature of his chest, and shoulder blades, just a hint of a nipple, the inspired choice of grey/blue colour, which set off those astonishing eyes of his so beautifully. 

It had been all Sam could do to stop herself just gathering him into a cuddle, and burying her face into that soft velvety warmth. 

Alongside these various fashion trends, hairstyles came and went. 

What could Sam say about Malcolm's hair? 

No adjective really did it justice. 

In the beginning it had been more chestnut brown.....more lustrous, and more of it! Not that he'd lost his hair, far from it. It was just that he tamed it more rigorously these days. 

It went into waves if only he would allow it.  
Natural, baby soft, curls of wonderment. Standing up from his head.  
Gradually as the years passed it became peppered with silver.  
But no less adorable for that.  
The temptation to run her fingers through it occasionally was very great, imagining combing it back from his head, her nails against his scalp until he hummed with satisfaction.  
It was sometimes so powerful an urge that Sam had to take a few deep breaths as she walked into the same room. 

It was the back that was the most alluring. 

Now that he was more grey, and more distinguished in Sam's own humble opinion, the back of Malcolm's head was her chief raison d'être. 

If she could contrive to get herself behind him, as he sat in his chair, she would. 

There lay all her deepest fantasies. 

Thoughts which she had no business to be thinking about her employer, and for which she castigated herself most severely. 

Here his locks were darker. Maintaining a memory of what they once were. The nape of his neck was the most delicious, the most desirable, kissable erogenous zone that Sam could ever possibly imagine. 

That way lay utter madness. 

Tight little curls. Each one a perfect capital C shape. Tucking themselves into his shirt collar.  
The softest, silkiest tresses, almost like a child's. How she longed to touch them!

They culminated in Sam's favourite spot of all. Just at the back of his ear. 

Just here there was, on each side, a curl like no other. The sort of whorl she would like nothing better than to wrap around her index finger and play with, preferably as he lay stark naked beside her. 

She dreamed of placing little kisses just behind the shell like curve of that helix.  
Malcolm had lovely ears.....there was no getting away from it, and Sam had spent many a long moment in idle reverie, thinking about her mouth on the delicate soft skin of that lobe, pulling on it gently, as he gasped beneath her.

Or perhaps teasing that one special steel grey ringlet gently between her finger tips. 

Sam closed her eyes.  
That was the danger with Malcolm, to fall too far, too fast. He, she mused, was completely unaware of her attraction to him, his attraction to _any_ woman for that matter........and if he were, she felt sure he'd be surprised by it.  
She shook her head to clear it, and tried to focus on her emails. 

Malcolm would be here any moment. Actually he was running late......for him........perhaps he'd been held up......

oOo

Sam heard her boss before she actually saw him. The bang of the door as he swept through, speaking loudly and obscenely into his mobile phone. 

"Yeah, same to you.....cunt!" He hung up with a flourish as he marched into the area where Sam's desk stood. 

The mixture of abject horror which struck her face, like a smack with a wet kipper, must have made an impression on him, because he stopped dead in mid _"morning Sam"_ and looked at her with a puzzled expression. 

Her gaze flicked momentarily down to her feet, embarrassed, then back up, scanning and taking in every inch of his head. 

Stricken. 

"What?" His tone was challenging, furrowed of brow, stern. 

"Your hair!" She murmured, with mortification, the colour rising in her cheeks. 

"What about it?" His eyebrows knitted angrily. 

It was terrible. 

What could she say now? The words blurted forth before she could censor them, her mouth working long before her brain caught up, and her facial expression giving her away before a syllable had left her lips in any case.

"It's gone!" The look in her eyes spoke of a deep and irretrievable loss. Almost a bereavement. 

It was true.  
Shorn to less than an inch, all over his head. Attacked with a Strimmer. He resembled a sheep post-shearing.  
The front came to a widows peak on his forehead. 

The back.....oh......glory be! 

The lovely curls were gone! Not even so much as a kink remained. 

"So fucking what!" Malcolm was cross now, running a hand over his mown scalp, with a huff of annoyance. 

Sam, flustered now, blundered on, unable to stop herself. 

"I don't like it!" She stated, quietly, but firmly. 

"Well, tough shit! What's it to you anyway? It's a fucking haircut!" His tone had become more defensive, his face now wearing an injured expression. 

"It's so severe....." She stammered, biting her lip, avoiding his sharp stare. 

There was no doubt about it now, he was hurt. Confused at her reaction, and feeling uncharacteristically self conscious. 

"What difference does my Barnet make to you? Since when have I needed to seek approval of my PA before visiting the barbers?" He shot back, with increasing venom. 

"You haven't......you don't.......I'm sorry.........sorry I mentioned it........" Sam backtracked desperately. 

"Humph! I should think so! Where's my latte?" He swept a glance across her desk top. 

"I'll fetch it straight away." She scurried off, leaving him standing, hands on hips, staring after her, shaking his head in bewilderment.

oOo

It was a while later, she bought some papers into his office for him to sign.  
As she entered he was standing in front of the mirror on his back wall, running a hand backwards and forwards across the top of his head, turning sideways slightly, to see each angle. 

He moved away as she came in. Glancing towards her shyly. Sitting down in his chair. 

Out of sheer habit, Sam moved behind him. A mournful grimace, as she could no longer see the lovely curlicues that were formally his, but mainly her, pride and joy. 

"It'll soon grow again Malcolm." She observed, quietly. 

"Didn't know my fucking coiffeur warranted so much attention." He huffed sullenly.

She gave a little smile. 

"What are you fucking smirking at? You're my PA.....I don't pay you to criticise my appearance! It's fuck all to do with you!" 

Sam frowned at her employer fondly. Despite his fearsome reputation, nothing he said frightened her in the least. 

Clearly he cared very much what SHE thought of him, in all aspects; his words, the way he acted and spoke, what he wore and his personal grooming, even if he wasn't in the slightest bit bothered about the opinions of others. 

She'd never really considered that he took much care over his appearance, he simply turned up. Certainly she never thought for a moment that he may make a special effort on her behalf. 

That in itself begged a question, why was he so keen that she should think well of him? 

Why was he clearly so rattled when she didn't? 

Could it possibly be that his daydreams included her, as hers were almost exclusively of him?

Did he have his own little fantasies? 

He'd never said a word. Or given any indication. 

"Sam, what the fuck is wrong with you today? You're away with the fucking fairies!" 

Shit! 

He'd been talking to her! 

She wasn't even listening. 

"Sorry Malcolm, I was distracted! You were saying?" It was impossible to keep the blush from her cheek. 

"I was asking if you were doing anything this evening?" His face was hopeful, eager, but the shadow of impending and inevitable rejection hung over it. 

For a moment she was nonplussed. Staring at him in confusion. 

"Right!" He continued briskly. "Clearly that thought is abhorrent to you. Spending the evening with me, apparently looking like a fucking convict. Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. It was just a thought." 

"What? Wait?" Sam backtracked furiously. "Could you just rewind the tape? I missed a whole section there!" 

"I SAID!" He annunciated, as people sometimes do to a deaf person, or someone foreign, or that they think is just plain stupid. "I had a table booked at Brown's. But I've been stood up......story of my bloody crap life......but the table is there.....so I just thought, what the hell......maybe Sam would li........?" 

"I'll come!" She blurted quickly. "I mean......that'd be nice!........Who stood you up?" Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly, curious as to who the, no doubt infinitely more suitable, candidate was, that she had been second choice to. 

Malcolm shot her a withering glance.

"Don't get your knickers all fucking excited woman! It was only Angela.....we've been mates forever.....it was to thank her for the piece she did for me in The Mail the other week! That's all!" 

"If you've got someone you'd rather take at short notice, you can have the table, and I'll fuck off home to ma bed!" He shot back, in his most perfunctory tone. 

"Malcolm no! I don't have anyone else......you know that! I don't have time to date, not while working for you! I'd love to come with you......don't be like that. I'm sorry I upset you about your hair.....it just came out......it was a bit of a surprise that's all!" 

A desolatory shrug was all she received in reply. 

Crossing the room, Sam laid a hand on his arm. 

"I've really hurt your feelings haven't I? I apologise......and I'd enjoy having dinner with you." 

"Feelings?" He scoffed. "Don't be daft......I'm fucking armour plated me......nothing gets through.  
You think I care two hoots about that? I thought you'd probably have a better offer that's all." 

Sam didn't relinquish her hold, and sought his eyes with her own. 

"No, of course you don't. Silly of me! You're an armadillo! Forget I said it. And I don't have a better offer......there isn't ever a better offer......"

Malcolm blushed furiously, and refused to look at her. 

"You want me to go home and change.....or will I do?" She continued gently. 

"You look great. You always look great........" He glanced at her shyly then pulled back, away from her grip, moving round behind his desk, placing it between them.

oOo

The table was a good one. 

Of course it was, this was Malcolm Tucker. 

He could always command a good table in a restaurant. 

Quiet, intimate, the venue smart, without being pretentious. 

The evening was a very pleasant one indeed. 

At first Malcolm seemed uptight, nervous, jittery, but he relaxed after a couple of glasses of wine and they were soon chatting and laughing animatedly. 

The alcohol also loosened Sam's tongue. 

"This is really nice!" She smiled, a slight flush to her cheek, which was not entirely due to the Cab Sav. 

"Yeah. We should do it more often. So.......armadillo.....? Malcolm's expression reminded her of a bird of prey. Beady eyes, ever alert and watchful. 

"Yep. That's you. Crunchy on the outside, squishy in the middle!" She giggled. 

Malcolm gave a wry smile. 

Having paid the bill, they left together, Sam shivered with suppressed excitement, feeling his hand resting on the small of her back, as the door was opened to allow her through. 

Whistling a cab, he stood back to let her climb inside. 

"Nightcap?" She asked tentatively, as they drove through the busy streets. 

Malcolm demurred. 

"I should get home.....it's late, early start tomorrow." 

He couldn't fail to notice her face fall in disappointment, her shoulders sag slightly, her head bow. 

"Well, maybe just a quick one..........drink I mean!" He added hurriedly. 

Sam laughed nervously. 

"Drink! Of course!" She replied. "That's what I thought you meant." 

Malcolm blew out his cheeks, as the cab came to a halt outside Sam's flat. 

Once inside, she took his jacket, showed him through to the kitchen. 

He stood, awkwardly, hands at his sides, as if unsure what to do with them. 

"Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?" She asked, turning away from him slightly. 

"Coffee. Please." His voice was suddenly just behind her, and she swung round quickly, coming face to face, their noses almost touching.

His hands were holding her elbows, his fingers gripping loosely. He was very close. 

"Tell me if I'm being a cunt." He said softly. "And if I'm barking up the wrong fucking tree? Only, it won't be the first time......"

Her hand reached up and touched his cheek, stroking down towards his jaw with a finger tip. 

"Definitely not......on both counts." She responded, as her lips touched his, gently at first, then applying more pressure. She could feel him tremble as he returned the kiss with interest.

He could feel her hand move to behind his neck, the touch of her finger tips, along the nape, just above his collar, and then.....holy shit......just behind his ear, feeling the soft skin at the back, and the earlobe itself, giving a little whimper of protest as she pulled away from him.  
The sensation shot straight to his groin. 

"Fuck......Sam......." He whispered, backing off quickly. 

"Sorry Malcolm......but I've wanted to do that for months now.......and I can't believe you cut off those delicious curls that I've dreamt about twirling round my fingers ever since I can remember......its sacrilege!" 

"What? What curls?" He breathed, his eyelids heavy with desire. 

"The curls, or more specifically, one gorgeous curl, just here......behind your ear......oh Malcolm, it does things to me! Unspeakable things.......things I'm completely ashamed of........and you've had them all lopped off! I can't believe you did that!"

"Christ! Really? You've hidden it well......I had no idea I was so fucking alluring!" He laughed coyly. 

"Oh God yes! You have a powerful effect on a girl, Malcolm Tucker. The back of your neck is the most erotic thing I can possibly think of.......it quite puts me off my work.....it's a job to concentrate sometimes!"

All the time they were speaking, her fingers roamed along his hairline and up the back of his head, exploring teasingly. 

"Fuck!" Was all he could manage. 

"My one consolation is that they'll grow back......before you know it!" She smiled. 

"Yeah.....I guess." He smiled back, pulling away a little more. 

"And now......since you're my boss......and since I know how strict you are about liaisons with people in the workplace, and knowing that we both have to be up ridiculously early in the morning........" She paused. 

"You're telling me to fuck off home?" He finished.

"No. Not quite! You can have your coffee......." Sam began. 

"Then I'll fuck off home......" He interrupted. 

Sam smiled gently, and held his hands in hers.

"I think it's best. It would be a shame to spoil such a lovely evening by getting carried away!" 

Breaking away from him she turned to make them both a drink. 

"But you'll let me take you out again? Properly?" His face was so eager, like an expectant puppy. 

"I'd like that very much Malcolm......but I'm not rushing into anything........I don't want to compromise you, or our working relationship, and I'm sensible enough to know that it would be wrong to get in too deep too quickly.....and all too easy!" 

"Yeah. Fucking good point. Hey Sam......?" He placed his cup down on the counter. 

"Can I kiss you again?" 

She gave an eye roll.

"On one condition......" She answered. 

"Anything!" He replied earnestly. 

"That you promise not to have your hair cut again until I say........." 

"Deal!" He responded, pulled her close to him a second time.

 

Fin.


End file.
